


Murder Mystery Party 9:43

by ziusura



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Murder Mystery, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-13 17:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4530933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziusura/pseuds/ziusura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard enough being a Qunari in Tevinter, and Varaad's got his hands full trying to figure out who's been attempting to assassinate his boyfriend. Reforming Tevinter's a tough job, but it's time for the Inquisition to get in the midst of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently one murder mystery party wasn't enough for me. Trying out this frequently updated short chapter thing. I'm going to try and get a chapter out every few days at the latest (so like 2-3 times a week?). We'll see how that goes hahaaa. I'll up the rating and add tags as need be. 
> 
> I'm wiki'ing but I'm not super familiar with material outside the games, so pretty much everything is based off of the games alone and I'm basically ignoring everything that might happen after inquisition in this one. While this has a political background, this fic is very much not a political one, so if you're looking for deep exploration of Tevinter and it's reformation…this is not that fic. I mean the title is Murder Mystery Party 9:43 this is not particularly serious.

Varaad wasn’t surprised when his advisors entered his room without knocking; he could only pretend for so many days that rereading his favorite serial novels was an important task, and that he definitely would look at the work piling on his desk after he finished just one more. He’d been half under his blankets and rank with days worth of unwashed sweat with his nose pressed up against “ _The Prince’s Decision_ ” to block out the heavy summer light when they’d burst in, Leliana first because Josephine was too polite and even their friendship couldn’t prevent her from following social niceties, and Cullen respected him too much to burst in unannounced after Varaad encouraged him to stop lyrium. She at least had the courtesy of making her presence very well known; make no mistake, there was no way Varaad could have missed her entrance. 

He pushed his face into the pages close enough his horns brushed the cover so he couldn’t see the three of them round the stairs, but that only made him hyper aware of their footsteps, and they stopped all too close to his position on the bed for his comfort. None of them reached out to remove his book, but Cullen cleared his throat and Josephine said, “Ah, I had hoped you’d taken a look at the Jordan accounts but…” She trailed off with a sigh, and Varaad swallowed, his stomach clenching. 

He’d hoped he’d taken a look at those by then too, but it was...difficult after Corypheus’ defeat. It was easier to be the inquisitor when he had a clear cause to champion, and now he felt like he was floundering. He may be enamoured of stories of political intrigue and nobility, and had been since childhood, but actually being involved seemed like an impossible task. 

Varaad set down his book carefully and sat up slowly, his blankets sliding down his chest as he moved. Josephine was staring forlornly at the mountain of untouched parchment on his desk, left where Leliana’s dispatchers and the Inquisition’s messengers had placed them, and hot shame poured into Varaad’s stomach. 

“I was about to do those actually,” he said, and winced when his voice cracked from disuse. 

Cullen raised an eyebrow but said nothing, and Varaad curled his toes together under his bedding where his advisors couldn’t see them. There was far too much on his list that he was “about to do.” 

“Well,” Leliana began, and subtly moved her arm in a way that would call attention to the folded parchment in her hand. “In any case we did not come in here to talk about those. The agent I have planted in Dorian’s household has recently reported in.” 

Varaad immediately tensed as soon as Dorian’s name had been mentioned, earlier embarrassment giving way to unease. It had been over a year since Dorian left for Tevinter, and though their situation wasn’t ideal they made the best of it with letters to each other. If Leliana was directly bringing a report to him, Varaad wasn’t sure he was prepared to read it, but she seemed calm, relaxed, and that made him breathe out slowly and force his tension out. When they’d first met Varaad wouldn’t have put much stock in what she chose to show, but since Justina’s message she’d gotten freer with her emotions, and he knew he could trust her calmness. 

“What did it say?” Varaad asked. 

“There has been three assassination attempts on Dorian in the past month, and my other agents have confirmed similar attempts on Calpernia and others in their circle.” 

Varaad leapt to his bedside table where he stored Dorian’s letter’s before Leliana had finished, uncaring that he was showing his small clothes to the others in the room and frantically searching for his latest letters for some sort of clue. His heart thundered in his chest and he was feeling more than a little betrayed by his advisor’s, especially Leliana’s, lack of fear or concern because this was _Dorian_. 

The last letter Varaad had gotten arrived two weeks prior and was little more than a passionate love letter, and it was dated three weeks ago, well within the month of assassination attempts. 

“He hasn’t said anything,” Varaad said into the parchment, and he fell to his knees in front of the bedside table because he didn’t feel like towering over the bedside table as worried as he was. 

There was a pause after Varaad spoke, like his advisors were taking a moment to collect their thoughts, before Cullen said, “Yes, we believe he didn’t want you to know—he is a proud man after all.” 

Varaad snarled and shoved the letter back into the drawer it’d come from. “But that’s just—”

“Foolish, we know,” Leliana said, and Varaad deflated. 

Dorian hadn’t even wanted Varaad to help him retrieve his amulet; he couldn’t be surprised that Dorian was afraid of taking advantage even in this. He smoothed out the wrinkled bits of parchment in almost an apology, and Varaad carefully shut the drawer and stood up.

His hands hung uselessly by his side until Varaad ran them over his bare thighs, attempting to smooth out his appearance while his stomach churned inside. 

“So what do you suggest we do? Send an infiltration team for a direct attack? Talk to nobles and figure out who the attempts are coming from? Protect him with some of the inquisition forces?” 

He sounded tired, resigned, and he couldn’t bring himself to meet any of his advisor’s eyes. 

“Actually,” Josephine said, and the sound of parchment rubbing against itself brought Varaad’s attention to where she held some of her own in her hand. She held it out to Varaad and he accepted it almost numbly. “We thought you could go yourself.” 

Written on the parchment was an invitation to a dinner hosted by a Magister Severus. Tevinter. For the first time in over a year Varaad would be in the same country. 

“It’s supposed to be a party for the ages,” Josephine says with a flourish. “ _And_ , Dorian Pavus, and Calpernia, among others of interest, will be in attendance. We believe another assassination attempt is likely during this event, and we will be there to uncover the truth.”

Cullen crossed his arms, shifted his weight to one foot, and said, “Or at the very least we can look into this issue, because three failed attempts in that short of time is certainly suspicious for other reasons.” 

“We’ve been gathering information and sway in Tevinter, and now is the time for the Inquisition to add their voice to the reformation,” Leliana added, and Varaad bit down a smile.

The circumstances weren’t ideal, but Varaad couldn’t help but be a little happy. Seeing Dorian in his homeland wasn’t something he thought he’d ever get to do, and Tevinter needed change. 

“Of course,” Varaad said, something light bleeding into his voice. “Accept the invitation and begin preparations to travel and stay in Tevinter.”

Varaad glanced over at his desk and the piles of work that needed doing and grinned. It felt good to have a cause again.


	2. Chapter 2

It had taken the better part of a month for Varaad and a portion of the inquisition’s forces to arrive in Tevinter. Every hot sticky day of slowly moving through Thedas at a pace the marching forces could keep up with, and the horses would not tire from had worn down at Varaad’s sense of calm, because every day of travel was one more day Dorian or his circle of reformers could be attacked. Only Leliana’s birds and their reports had kept him from dashing off on his dracolich with Vivienne and Sera to get to Tevinter long before their large group could reasonably make it; there had been no other attempts on Dorian’s life, but one of the soporati Leliana’s agent said they regularly interacted with had no such luck and had succumbed to their wounds.

In any event, Varaad had rushed on ahead with a small group once the large gates of Minrathous came into view, only illuminated by the city lights and the pale light of the sunset, but he was no more than an hour ahead of the rest of the forces. Tevinter was just as the ruins and rumors in the rest of Thedas would suggest; disgustingly hot, unbelievably grand, and showy in every manner. Just like Dorian, though Dorian did lack the multitude of elves and people Varaad assumed were members of the soporati in heavily mended clothing going about doing their or their master’s business on his person. The guarded looks people were sending Varaad weren’t so pleasing as the ones Dorian shot him too. 

“Well this is all sort of...normal,” Sera said. “From what Bull said I was expecting a hundred mages showing off and doing their fancy tricks to get the gate open, maybe a few demons chasing people about.” 

“Dear, Bull saw a different part of Tevinter,” Vivienne said, but her eyes were moving curiously around as well. Well, curiously for Vivienne. Anyone who hadn’t known her as long as Varaad had would’ve thought her the picture of poise and disinterest. 

“And Bull’s generally full of it,” Varaad added, and Sera burst into giggles. 

“Full of _something_ ,” she said with a leer. “Or stuffin someone else full of something I guess. But he was right about the dwarves. I’ve never seen so many little Varrics and Hardings running around trying to sell me stuff.” 

That was completely true. Dorian had said Tevinter had good trading relations with the Dwarves, but Varaad had never even stepped foot near Orzammar, let alone another dwarven city, and he’d come no where close in imaging as many dwarves in one place as they were in Tevinter.

A sign swinging in the corner of his eye, just over one of the said dwarven wares, caught his attention. The words were blue and faint but Varaad could make out the words _Joy Tavern_ , and even if he had been unable to read them the merry music and the smell of food floating out from the open door would’ve been clue enough. Varaad found himself salivating—the appeal of something other than the traveling rations he’d been eating for some time was more than just a little tempting.

Varaad gestured at the Tavern and said, “Should we eat something before we—Oof.” Something slammed into Varaad, stopping his words prematurely, and Varaad automatically put one hand on his coin purse and another wrapped around the body pushing up on him before he recognized the smell enveloping him and the faint tickle of a mustache on his lips. 

_Dorian_. It was Dorian, and instead of kissing back Varaad started helplessly grinning against his mouth.

“Amatus,” Dorian said very quietly, breath tickling Varaad’s still smiling mouth, and he pulled back enough for them to look at each other, but not enough to dislodge Varaad’s hold on him. 

It had been so long Varaad expected to not recognize him, but he looked largely the same. There were a few wrinkles he hadn’t had before, and some grey mixed in his hair at his temples, but other than that the Dorian that had left the inquisition to go back to Tevinter looked like the Dorian today in Tevinter, and he looked _good_.

“Of course I do, but it is nice of you to notice,” Dorian said with a teasing grin, and Varaad flushed when he realized he’d been talking out loud. Dorian’s grin got wider, and embarrassed, Varaad ducked in for another kiss to hide his face, but before he reached Dorian’s lips, someone cleared their throat gently. 

Varaad jerked back and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. The heat in his face had increased by at least double, but he still met Vivienne’s eyes. 

“Do remember where you are, Dear,” Vivienne said, but there was a gentle smile in her eyes, and behind her, Sera was making exaggerated kissy faces. If anything that should have been more embarrassing, but it made the happiness in his stomach bloom brighter and Varaad found himself smiling so wide his face hurt instead.

“It is good to see you again,” Dorian said, craning his head towards where Vivienne and Sera were standing.

Vivienne only bowed her head lightly in acknowledgement, but Sera leapt closer and said, “Yeah yeah, but if anyone gets possessed by a demon while I’m here I’m putting an arrow in your arse.” 

Dorian threw his head back in an exaggerated gasp and said, “Why Sera, I’d never let anyone touch a single unevenly cut hair on your head.” 

“You better,” Sera replied, with an almost petulant edge to her voice. 

Dorian just laughed in response, and he turned back slightly towards Varaad to take his hand. 

“I’d apologize for the looks, but I am feeling a little Schadenfreudic just looking at them after kissing my big qunari lover right by the gates of Tevinter, and well, I’m a little mad I only heard about you coming from rumors among town this morning that the inquisition was approaching” Dorian said, inclining his head towards the people around them. 

He’d been so focused on Dorian he hadn’t noticed that the guarded looks had changed to something darker. Some of the people had openly stopped to stare at them, mostly Varaad, in thinly veiled disgust. Right. Qunari. _Gay_ Qunari involved with an altus. An altus possibly known by face as one of the people trying to reform Tevinter. They were quite a pair, that was for sure. 

“We sent a letter…” Varaad said warily, eyes firmly on a city guard who had his hand on the hilt of his blade and looked ready to draw if Varaad made any movement. Varaad didn’t think he’d try anything, but he couldn’t help but feel like it was hope telling him that. 

Dorian put a hand on his cheek and turned Varaad’s head towards him. His face was full of concern and Varaad’s tensed muscles melted slightly at the look. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” Dorian said softly, and Varaad swallowed audibly. 

It was Sera’s voice that broke the tension. “Come on you lovey-doveys, if I stand here any longer watching you make eyes at each other I’ll get snatched by a slaver and you’ll feel bad.”

Dorian shook himself like he was getting rid of a bad thought, and put a tight grin on his face. “That wouldn’t happen.” 

“Tell that to my pointy ears and your people—I feel like a...like a big barmaid tit all slathered in money.” 

Dorian snorted and tugged Varaad closer by the hand he still held. “I did miss your metaphors,” he muttered before adding, “In any case, I imagine your forces will be staying outside the city in big tents, probably with Cullen, but I can offer you three, and-” with a gentle nod towards Varaad “-your advisors a place in my home.” 

“That is agreeable,” Vivienne said for them. They’d been planning on it after all, though after they hadn’t heard from Dorian since sending their letter they’d found inns instead, but that was simple enough to cancel. 

“Lead the way,” Varaad said softly, and Dorian squeezed his hand. He didn’t let go.


	3. Chapter 3

After dropping off their horses at a reputable stable for the inquisition to pick up, Dorian led them further and further into the city, and the homes got bigger and more intricate. Sera’s eyes swung quickly from side to side, seeming a little anxious from all the huge houses, but likely looking for any sign that one of her little people wasn’t okay. It was hard to tell from outside them since there were high walls around most of them, and Varaad shuddered to think about the fact that they were probably there to keep slaves in as much to keep people and Sera’s eyes out.

It was dark out when Dorian finally turned towards the doorway of a modest home, well modest in comparison to the others on the street. It was by no means the largest, but it wasn’t the smallest. Like the others it had a high wall surrounding the yard, only open at the entrance of the home. Varaad couldn’t make out the exact color in the little light, but it was something light. 

Dorian let go of Varaad’s hand to unlock and open the door, but didn’t grab it again once the deed was done. Despite the house’s grand nature, the doorway was small narrow and Varaad had to duck and turn slightly sideways to get inside, which made Dorian burst into laughter. 

“I suppose that’s why these doorways haven’t gone out of style—difficult for our large, horned enemies to get in and kill us if they can’t get through the door.” 

“Iron Bull likes throwing himself at walls too much for that to be true,” Vivienne added, and then all three of them were in Dorian’s house. 

The entryway was decorated sparsely in red and glowing in soft candle light, unassuming in its size. The door may have been small, but the ceilings were high and for that Varaad was grateful. 

“I imagine Cullen will want to stay with the troops, but I have more than enough room for you and a few others if he would like to send guards with you,” Dorian said. “I’ll show you to your—Ah, Miriel.”

Dorian was looking just past them, and Varaad turned to look at the entrance to the next room. There was a harried looking elf with short red hair pulled into two messy pigtails at the base of her neck, leaning against the door frame and inclining her head in a bow. 

“I’m so sorry, Master,” the elf—Miriel—said. “I should have been here to greet you and your guests.” 

Judging by the wince on her face, Sera hadn’t missed the ‘Master,” but Dorian looked largely unconcerned. He waved off her words with a slight flick of the hands and said, “It’s fine. Why don’t you heat up some of the stew from dinner for our guests while I show them to a room.”

Miriel bowed even deeper then, then left in a hurry presumably to heat up stew, and Dorian turned back towards Varaad. 

“I hope it wasn’t too presumptuous of me to ask her to heat up dinner; I saw you looking rather forlornly at the tavern earlier,” he said with a teasing grin. 

“Not at all,” Varaad answered, and Sera voiced her agreement. 

Dorian led them through a sitting area with a large fireplace and up a set of stairs off to the side. The ceiling was lower than it had been in the entryway, but there was still enough room for that Varaad didn’t have to walk with his head down. He opened the room closest to the stairwell and showed that it was a good size with four beds and a cot made up in it. 

“I figured this one would be best for any guards that came along since it is the closest one to the door in case of an attack,” Dorian said, and Sera peered curiously around the doorway. 

“This house have those fancy passageways for the slaves?” she asked. 

“Ah, yes,” Dorian answered warily. 

Sera bolted into the room and pulled at the tapestries and wall hangings before making a happy noise and plopping down on the bed directly next to the one she’d just peeked under. 

“I’ll take this one,” she said cheerily. 

“If I find buckets of water in my doorways or fish hidden in the walls I will send you to sleep out in the tents,” Dorian said, and Sera only smiled wider. 

“Well, I’m definitely going to regret this,” he mumbled to himself, and led Varaad and Vivienne to a room across the hall and one door over. Varaad silently agreed. 

The next room was a smaller one with only two beds big enough for two people, though it had room for cots if needed. Vivienne walked into the room without any prompting and set the small pack she’d pulled off her horse next to the furthest bed from the door. Varaad moved to follow, but Dorian caught his wrist. 

“If you’d like, you can stay in mine,” Dorian said softly, and Varaad’s heart leapt in his throat. 

Dorian had never stayed in Varaad’s room much back in Skyhold—Varaad took up so much room on top of his snoring and being a blanket hog, and Dorian held onto his partners like a little octopus, which wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t generate so much heat. It seemed like an idea that would cut all this happiness at seeing each other again short. 

Dorian seemed to read his silence accurately though, and he shifted his grip on Varaad’s wrist as he said, “I know, I know, but I missed you. And I had a cot set up there just in case.” 

“Then I will stay with you.” 

They shared a soft kiss in the hallway, nothing with need or anything—just expressing their happiness at seeing each other again, and feeling so full of each other breathing the same air—and then Dorian led them to a door in the very back left, some distance from the front rooms he’d shown to Sera and Vivienne. 

It was dark in the room, the only light coming from the pale moonlight drifting in from the balcony just past a large four poster bed, something that looked orlesian style. As Dorian said there was a wooden cot with a pallet rolled over it just to the side of it, and Varaad dropped his stuff there. He planned to try and sleep with Dorian first, but it was better that he was already prepared to sleep on the cot. 

There was a quiet knock on the doorframe, and Varaad turned to see Miriel again. 

“Excuse me, Masters, but the stew is ready,” she said, and then she was gone. 

A faint growl filled the room in answer, and Varaad would’ve laughed at his stomach’s timing, but something Miriel said and continued to say bothered him. 

“Master?” Varaad asked, catching Dorian’s sleeve to hold him there. “Does Capernia know about this?” 

Dorian scowled and jerked his sleeve out of Varaad’s grip. “Calpernia has no say in how I run my household,” he said tightly. 

Something dark coiled in Varaad’s stomach. That...that wasn’t anywhere close to the answer Varaad wanted to hear, and he shifted nervously, glancing away for a moment. He didn’t know what to say next.

Dorian sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ah, forgive me, you don’t deserve to have my frustration with Calpernia taken out on you,” he said softly, then added louder, “In any case, Miriel is on my payroll—not a slave—so no need to worry that pretty face of yours.” 

“Then why does she call you ‘Master?’” 

Dorian sighed again. “Her former Master was not very kind and Calpernia relieved him of his slaves. Miriel’s only been working here a short time and I do not wish to add stress trying to get her to stop.” 

The relief that filled Varaad’s body was indescribable. Dorian had said once that slaves were a fact of life in Tevinter, and Varaad was afraid he’d been unwilling to change this, even working with Calpernia. 

The tension may have left Varaad’s body, but Dorian looked no better since starting that particular conversation. He looked tight and stressed, his shoulders pulled up enough to look almost like a turtle and his hands in fists by his side.

Varaad put a cautious hand on Dorian’s shoulder, and grabbed firmly when Dorian didn’t shove him off. His throat was a taut line and his face wouldn’t turn towards Varaad.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Varaad asked softly. 

Dorian let out a harsh breath through his nose. 

“What’s there to talk about—she’s young and idealistic and wants to use any favor we’ve managed to get solely to release the slaves.” 

Varaad bit his lip. “Wouldn’t that...wouldn’t that work though?” Tevinter was built entirely on slaves; not having them would force it to restructure. 

Dorian whipped his head to look at Varaad with a harsh stare, but didn’t shrug Varaad’s hand off. 

“And where would we put these former slaves? With no money or home to their name? And oh, what about the rest of Tevinter? The economy would collapse, the Archon would probably be assassinated, like the last one that outlawed slaves mind you, and it would be an utter mess for decades. I will not let her use every bit of work we’ve put into this to cause that chaos.” 

It could be done. Calpernia certainly thought so, and so did Varaad, but Varaad wasn’t the one who’d been studying and living in Tevinter for many years, nor the one working on it in Tevinter the past year or so. 

“You would know better than I,” Varaad said instead, punctuating it with a light squeeze to the shoulder. 

Dorian closed his eyes and let out a long breath, some of his tension and fight draining along with it. “My way will take longer, but it will work,” he said softly, his eyes popping open again. “Tevinter needs to change, but it doesn’t want to. Every one of us so stubborn and stuck in our ways.” 

Varaad drew a blank on what to say next, so he offered Dorian a small smile and removed his hand. 

“You should go eat your stew,” Dorian said softly, and Varaad did just that. 

 

The dining area was in one of the doors off to the side of the sitting area, but Varaad, Vivienne, and Sera crowded into the kitchen area just off of that to eat their stew; it seemed wasteful to have Miriel or any other servants that Dorian might have had set up for a late dinner. Dorian didn’t eat with them—though he did stay in the kitchen—saying he’d eaten earlier. Varaad was a little concerned since he was still really tense from their earlier conversation, but he was glad to not have to come up with some reason to taste Dorian’s stew before it got to him just in case it was poisoned. Dorian would not have been okay with that, but Varaad just needed to make sure for his own sake. 

They ate quickly and quietly, exhaustion from weeks of travel finally making itself known in their bones and they wanted nothing more than to sleep, and perhaps bathe, but that could wait ‘til a reasonable time the next day. 

Varaad walked the way back up to Dorian’s room after Vivienne and Sera had already left for their own, with Dorian following shortly behind him. The room was still dark, but a single candle had been lit near Dorian’s bed and the open balcony offered enough light that Varaad didn’t feel like he was going to trip and fall or run into something. 

“You have a nice balcony,” Varaad said softly, feeling like his voice would disturb everything if he let it go too loud. It was a nice balcony though. Not quite as big as the one he had in Skyhold, but it ran the length of Dorian’s room. The entire area was open to it, likely a nice product of the warm north, but were curtains on a rod that could be slid to cover it. That scared Varaad more than it impressed him at the moment though—if he could scale trellises and walls in Halamshiral, so could an assassin, probably better in fact. 

Dorian cleared his throat behind him and placed a hand in the middle of his back. “Yes, I like it too. If only it had a nice view instead of the side of Lady Fabiana’s house.” 

Varaad huffed out an amused breath and leaned into Dorian’s touch. He could barely feel it through his armor, but it was nice. “Her house _is_ quite lovely,” Dorian said, then pulled away to start stripping off his leathers. 

He’d no sooner undone the coat before he realized that there was no armor stand in Dorian’s room. He shuffled it awkwardly in his hands, looking around for somewhere to put it before giving up because Dorian’s room had a single messy desk covered in parchment, a bed, and ceiling high shelves filled with books. 

“You have no armor stand,” Varaad said eventually, and Dorian gave him an amused look. 

“My ‘dresses’ aren’t so funny now, huh?” Dorian asked, but he turned with a flourish and walked over to an empty bit of wall with a candle holder next to his desk. Varaad stared at him curiously as he lit the candle holder with a bit of magic blue fire that flashed out after a few seconds. 

Miriel arrived at Dorian’s bedroom door a few moments later, and he asked her to bring him an armor stand. 

Varaad hovered awkwardly in the middle of the room, still holding onto his leather coat. 

“Will she be able to carry one up here?” 

Dorian shrugged and walked over to him. 

“She’ll probably get Aeneus to carry it up if he’s not in bed already—and before you ask, no also not a slave. He and his parents live here to avoid slavery and I have plenty of space, though I’ll admit I mostly hired him because he looks very good carrying things out in the garden.” 

Varaad shot him a self-conscious smile. He trusted Dorian but it’d been over a year since they last saw each other, and letters were only so much. 

Dorian laughed, put his palms on Varaad’s chest, and slowly slid them up to his collar bones. “Oh, don’t give me that look—you are the only one I want, you know.” Dorian looked up at him through his lashes, the faint glow from the candle sending shadows across his cheeks, and Varaad’s breath caught in his chest. “He’s got familiar shoulders. I believe he’s trained in the bow as well.” 

Varaad grabbed at Dorian’s nearest hand with his free hand and blurt out, “Me too. You’re the only one I’ve desired and loved since we met.” 

Dorian sucked in his bottom lip and a flush stained his cheeks, and Varaad felt trapped by his beauty. “Your words…” he trailed off, his eyes dropping to Varaad’s chest again, and Dorian’s open hand repeated its path up and down Varaad’s chest, brusing Varaad’s hand lightly on the path back up. “Is this armor new?”

“It is,” Varaad said simply.

It was strange to feel Dorian’s hands on him again, the casual touches he’d forgotten he’d missed, and he mourned the ones he hadn’t gotten to have since Dorian traveled back. Varaad vowed to make up for all he could while he was there.

Dorian said nothing, but whether it was by choice or by Miriel announcing her presence only moments later, Varaad didn’t know. Dorian removed himself from Varaad carefully and headed over to the open door to speak to Miriel about something, but Varaad didn’t pay attention to that closely.

Instead Varaad watched as a young human man with hair like Cullen’s, presumably Aeneus, brought in the armor stand. He was quite muscular and tall in a way that Varaad would expect more of Qunari, or maybe a dwarf if Aeneus was shrunken down by half, but his shoulders weren’t particularly recognizable. But then again Varaad had never seen his own shoulders, but if his own truly stretched his clothing out like Aeneus’, then Varaad wasn’t so surprised that Dorian liked taking Varaad from behind so often. 

Aeneus left before Dorian finished talking, but he seemed to be quietly insisting something with Miriel. Varaad didn’t want to interrupt so he busies himself with stripping off the rest of his armor. It was just light armor so it’s individual bulk wasn’t bad, but Varaad was so big pieces of it touched the floor even while on the stand. It was frustrating, but expected, and Varaad would be surprised if he saw anything big enough for qunari armor pieces in Tevinter; they might be closer than the Free Marches but a proud people carrying their enemies’ things in general shop was almost too much to ask. 

He stripped until he was just in his breeches, feeling too awkward with the open balcony so close to another’s house to be solely in his small clothes even if that’s what he usually slept in, and turned to find that Dorian had since finished his discussion with Miriel and was now lounging against the door frame, clearly enjoying the view. 

Varaad scratched at his chest in light embarrassment, but smiled at Dorian anyway. He’d gotten a new scar, a gnarled ugly thing just above his kidneys, but Dorian seemed to appreciate the way he looked anyway. 

“What were you and Miriel talking about?” Varaad found himself asking out of nervousness; it seemed silly for the hangups he’d had about the way he looked early on in their relationship to show up now, but they had. “You seemed distressed.” 

Dorian pulled himself up from his position with a sigh and walked over to his balcony. “I was asking if she had received the letter you said you sent about your arrival,” he admitted over his shoulder. “I am...concerned, for the reasons why it apparently never showed.” 

Varaad stepped carefully over to him and hugged him from behind, hunching over to rest his chin over Dorian’s shoulder. “It worries me too, with these assassination attempts I’ve been hearing about.” 

Dorian sighed again, nothing more than a soft breath that Varaad wouldn’t have heard if he hadn’t been so close, and grasped at Varaad’s arms with his own. It was Varaad who was wrapped around Dorian, but with Dorian’s hands on his arms and the heat of his back against Varaad’s bare skin, Varaad felt like he was the one being comforted. “I should’ve known you’d heard about that. Does Leliana have another spy I’ve yet to find planted here?”

“I can’t claim to know anything about that, but I am glad she did.”

Dorian turned just so to place a careful kiss on Varaad’s cheek, and left his lips resting on Varaad’s skin when he was done. 

“Is that the only reason you’re here? These poor assassination attempts?” Dorian almost sounded like he didn’t want to know, his voice so soft and full of mistrust. 

Varaad shook his head. “Of course not, though I likely would’ve insisted I come even if it were just that. The Inquisition has been garnering support for your cause and we are announcing our intentions at Magister Severus’ party.”

“Oh,” Dorian breathed. “Good.” And he promptly flipped them around to press Varaad against one of the pillars that support the roof of the balcony. 

He must have caught the back of his arm on a flower box or something attached to Dorian’s ridiculous robes during the move because it suddenly ached and Varaad felt a warm trickle of something slide down his arm, but Varaad ignored it. What was a little cut when he could be laughing into the kisses Dorian peppered onto him? 

Of course, that was the last thought he had before he slumped over onto Dorian and immediately blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *2 hour fart noise* Dorian and his opinion on slaves in Tevinter. At least its…a little better than in inquisition. Maybe Calpernia will beat something into him.


	4. Chapter 4

Varaad came to slowly, with the vague sense of deja vu that made him think he’d woken up once before. Woken up seemed like a poor choice of words; his head ached and his body felt heavy like that time he’d been knocked out fighting that dragon in the Hinterlands, and it felt unnatural to gain consciousness. 

There was a hand in a vice grip around his shoulder, but it felt dulled, like he was being touched through his leathers and the thick downy coat he wore under his armor while traveling through the mountains and the cold parts of Thedas. 

And then he opened his eyes, and everything came rushing in all at once. The light was bright, too bright, and for a second Varaad thought he was in the presence of the human religious figure Andraste because fire rushed through his veins and burned his body so much it hurt, but he couldn’t recoil or shut his eyes against the white light. Someone was talking, but the words bounced around his head like thunder and he couldn’t hear any one word above the screaming he knew had to be coming from his own throat. But it hurt so bad.

Then the hand on his shoulder shifted, and two hands cupped his face. There was a humming noise louder than the talking had been, like someone trying to soothe him, and then Dorian’s face came into view. Something cool radiated through his body from his hand, easing the burning under his skin, and Varaad blinked twice, swallowed around his dry tongue. 

Dorian’s face was so close that Varaad could see nearly every line on his face shift from panic to mild concern, and then Dorian pulled back. 

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Dorian said. The inflection had an air of whimsicality to it, like Dorian was trying to fit in his normal bravado, but worry clouded his voice. 

“Wha—” Varaad started, then broke off to cough. 

Dorian slid a hand under Varaad’s head and lifted so he could drink from a glass Dorian held to his lips. He drained it in a few seconds and was surprised when he started sucking in air; he hadn’t thought he was that thirsty.

“What happened,” Varaad tried again, and Dorian gently placed his head back down again. 

Dorian looked off to the side and busied himself with setting the glass down for far longer than it actually should’ve taken, then turned back to Varaad. 

“You took a poison dart meant for me while we were kissing,” Dorian said softly, like it pained him. “If you weren’t qunari it would’ve been enough to…” Dorian sighed, then continued, “I saw someone in a red cloak jump off of the wall and into Lady Fabiana’s yard, but the light was so limited and you were unconscious on top of me that I...Anyway. I had Miriel fetch a friend of mine, someone who isn’t so incredibly useless when their boyfriend is poisoned because talents in fire magic do nothing to heal, and now you’re awake.”

It was only the mention of a friend that made Varaad realize that there was another in the small room he was being treated in. Varaad lifted his head and was dismayed to find out just how weak he felt when his neck muscles burned with the strain. He must have made a noise because Dorian had his hand under Varaad’s head before he could fully voice his complaint. 

There was an older woman—maybe twenty or so years older than he and Dorian—in sleep clothes with no discernable holes or obvious mending, standing just past Dorian and holding Varaad’s hand with both of hers. There was a faint glow around her hands, obviously working some magic but Varaad was never sensitive enough to the fade to tell just what. It was just her and Dorian in the room, so she was someone he trusted to have his back turned to after an assassination attempt. 

“A friend?” Varaad asked, “Or a friend-friend?” 

Dorian shot him a curious look, and the hand under Varaad’s head shifted slightly. “I am not sure what you’re implying.” 

“Of Calpernia?” Varaad tried again.

“Ah, both. I knew her when I was a child.” 

The woman snorted, the first noise Varaad had heard from her. “I’m the mistress of the man his father apprenticed under.” 

“Ah,” Varaad said. She was way older than just the fifty-something he’d assumed then, unless the man had married when he was older.

“I’m Claudia. I’d shake your hand but if I tried your pain will start and Dorian here might start pulling his pretty hair out if he hears you scream like that again.” 

“Please don’t joke about that,” Dorian said tightly, and Varaad shifted to give him a soft look. “I’m still not sure why that was happening.” 

Claudia grunted. “Well, we sucked out all the poison from—the Inquisitor?”

“Varaad,” Varaad said. It was clear Claudia was saying this part for his benefit because Dorian already knew it. 

“From Varaad, then, and gave him a few general herbs to counteract the only poisons I know of that act as fast as Dorian described. I live close enough that it hadn’t hit his system hard by the time I’d gotten here, but it’s giving him the tingles—sharp little pinpricks under the skin. I sent Miriel with the list of herbs I need for that, but she won’t be able to pick them up ‘til morning when the markets open.” She directed her attention to Varaad. “So I can’t stop touching you with my magic until we knock you out with the sleeping potion Dorian’s been ignoring.” 

Varaad swallowed, glad that Dorian knew someone like Claudia because he couldn’t even begin to imagine what he’d do if...No. And Dorian wasn’t the one hit so it was useless to dwell on what would’ve happened if Dorian hadn’t turned them around so suddenly to kiss him against the balcony. 

“I suppose I shouldn’t wear you out any longer than I already have, then,” Varaad said softly. 

Claudia shrugged but gestured to Dorian with her head and shoulder anyway. “I can keep going a little longer if you’d like. I’ll probably be gone by the time you wake up from this one, but it was nice meeting you, Varaad.” 

Dorian reached across his body to grab the sleeping potion, nearly contorting his body to keep the hand he had under Varaad’s head in its place. 

“You as well, Claudia,” Varaad said, and Dorian placed the lip of the potion flask to his lips. 

He was asleep before he had finished drinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if the person dorian's dad apprenticed under was ever mentioned but *shrug*

**Author's Note:**

> Also on [tumblr](http://stoneanddragons.tumblr.com/tagged/mmp-943) if that's more your deal.


End file.
